Straight On Until Morning
by Darling Pretty
Summary: "Did you live in Neverland, Mummy?" Mary smiles and sits down next to her son. Without a word, he crawls into her lap, settling in as he faces her. Mary wraps him in her arms and kisses his forehead. "Where do you think I met your father?"
1. Prologue

**Yes, I probably shouldn't be starting another story, and yes, this isn't an original idea. But hopefully it's an original take on a less-than-original idea! Anyway, I really, really hope you enjoy it because I'm loving writing it.**

**As always, I own nothing and that includes Mary Poppins and Peter Pan, who are property of P.L. Travers and J.M. Barrie respectively.**

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"Bert, have you seen my pearls?" Mary asks loudly as she rummages through her jewelry box. "I can't seem to find them."

She doesn't get a response, but she does get two very suspicious sets of giggles coming from her son's room and follows them. She rolls her eyes at what she finds.

Bert has donned their son's pirate cap and is waving around a sword, his other hand clenched into a fist with only his pointer finger extended and curved into a hook. "Avast ye, shiver me timbers!" he bellows, making a grab for his five-year-old son.

Benjamin hops up on to his bed, neatly sidestepping Bert's swipe but struggling with the climb, waving a dagger of cardboard in his little hands."You'll never get me, Hook!"

"Curse you, Peter Pan! Yo ho ho!"

Mary can't help it and starts laughing. "Now Bert, you _know _Hook would never say that!"

Benjamin looks up. "What do you mean, Momma?"

"Your father is failing to remember that Hook doesn't usually speak in pirate clichés." Mary sends a pointed look Bert's way. If he's going to be telling their son the story, he should tell it properly!

"But how do _you _know?"

"You think your father is the only one who dealt with Captain Hook?" Mary turns her nose up and sniffs. "_Highly _unlikely."

"But Hook lives in Neverland!"

"Yes, he does."

"Did _you _live in Neverland, Mummy?"

Mary smiles and sits down next to her son. Without a word, he crawls into her lap, settling in as he faces her. Mary wraps him in her arms and kisses his forehead. "Where do you think I met your father?"

Benjamin' eyes grow wide. "_Daddy _wented to Neverland _too_?"

"Your daddy was in Neverland even longer than I was! He and Peter-"

Her son interrupts her to turn to Bert. "_You _knew Peter Pan?"

Bert chuckles, sitting down next to Mary. His weight slopes the small bed and makes her lean into him, so he just does what makes sense and pulls her even closer. Mary rolls her eyes but doesn't move away. "I suppose I did," Bert responds.

"Don't let your father fool you," Mary jumps in. "He and Peter were very close. Your father was Peter's very first friend. When I met them, they were nearly inseparable."

"But… but…" Benjamin looks back and forth between his parents. "No!"

"No?" Mary laughs. "You think your dad and Peter weren't friends?"

"Peter Pan doesn't like grown-ups and Daddy's a grown-up!"

"Well, that's certainly debatable," Mary mutters under her breath.

Bert pinches her gently. "I 'eard that."

She smirks at him before returning her attention to her son. "He wasn't always a grown-up!"

"But he's a daddy, not a little kid!"

"No, it's true, Benjamin!" Bert exclaims. "I was once your age. A very, very long time ago."

"No way!"

"'s true! So was your mum, once upon a time. Mind you, she might 'ave known a few dinosaurs in 'er time."

"Oh, Bert, _really_!"

Benjamin gives his father a scolding look. "Mummy's not _that _old."

Mary huffs. "I'm not old at all! Now your _father_ on the other hand…"

"Oooh, Daddy's in trouble!"

"Don't you worry, bud," Bert says with a lopsided grin. "Your mum loves me almost as much as I love 'er!"

Mary rolls her eyes, but says nothing.

"And you love me most!" Benjamin exclaims.

"Yeah, bud," Bert chuckles, reaching out to ruffle his son's hair. Mary smiles as she watches the pair. Benjamin is an exact copy of his father, cowlicks and all. "We love you most."

"Yay!" Benjamin exclaims and hugs Mary tightly. "Wait! But if Daddy was Peter's friend, why is he here with us?"

"It seems to me that that's a question you should be asking him. I don't want to put words in his mouth."

"Daddy? Why aren't you with Peter Pan?"

"Well, bud, it's a bit… complicated."

"It is?"

"The most important thing was that your mum 'ere, she was ready to come 'ome to London."

"But wasn't Neverland your home?"

"Bud, let me tell you something and I 'ope and pray you'll find it out for yourself one day."

"What's that, Daddy?"

"One day, you're going to meet somebody and from then on, your 'ome is never going to be any place they're not."

"Cuz you love them?"

"Because you love 'em more'n anything else in the world, more'n the moon and stars." Bert grins and wraps his arm around his wife's waist. "Your mum, she's my 'ome. She makes my life better just by being in it."

"Oh, Bert, _really_," Mary sighs.

"Well, it's _true_!"

Mary shakes her head but lays her head on his shoulder. He kisses the top of her head and she smiles. The man is positively insufferable at times, but he has a way of saying things at just the right moment, in just the right way, that remind her of just how truly lucky she is. She's known him since she was twelve, and even then, though she had found him rather obnoxious and lacking in any sort of manners, she could see the true kindness and loyalty that were simply a part of him.

"Daddy?" Benjamin asks.

"Yeah, bud?"

"Will you tell me about Neverland?"

"What do ya want to know?"

"All of it! All about Peter and Captain Hook and Mummy and you and everything!"

"That sounds like a very long story," Mary interjects. "And it's nearly bedtime."

"But Mummy…"

"Why don't we get you ready for bed and then your father can tell you all about it when he tucks you in?"

"Okay!" Ben says with an easy grin. He clambers down off her lap and runs to get his pajamas so she can help him dress. She's lucked into a truly happy child. He's very rarely difficult and incredibly agreeable. Not a day goes by that Mary doesn't see her husband simply cloned in their son. "Mummy?" he asks as she supervises him cleaning his teeth.

"Yes?"

""Will you help Daddy tell the story? Sometimes I don't think he tells it right!"

Mary hides a smile. "If you wish."

"Please! You tell stories good."

"You know, I've been told that."

"Really?"

"Mmhmm." Mary nods. "But that's part of the story. Are you ready for bed?"

"Yep!"

Mary and Ben return to his room and find Bert prepared for story time, having dragged the armchair across the room to sit by Ben's bed. Mary tucks in her son tightly and he snuggles into bed. She perches on the arm of the chair and Bert gives her a questioning look. "Your son has requested I help with the story. Apparently you don't tell things right sometimes."

"Well, that's just no fair! You've 'ad more practice than I 'ave."

"Just admit it, Bert. I'm a better storyteller than you!"

"Of course you are! 's why you were in Neverland in the first place! You've got an unfair advantage."

"Mummy told stories?" Ben speaks up.

Mary and Bert smile at each other before she answers. "Well, you see, it was a long time ago…"


	2. How It All Began

**Thank you so much for the reviews, guys! I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much!**

**As always, I own nothing.**

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Mary Poppins was twelve years old when Peter Pan first came to visit. She was a spoiled child, very rich and very, very lonely. She had no brothers or sisters with whom to play at Fairyland (as she called it) with and even if she did, her father discouraged such endeavors as silly and frivolous.

"Humph," he'd harrumph when he'd catch her at her games and stories with her toys standing in where a little brother should go. "Facts and figures, Mary, my girl, that's all you'll ever need!"

Mary didn't think that was quite right, but she was a little girl and he was her father and so she stayed quiet.

That's not to say that her father was cold or didn't love her. Her father loved her very much in the way that only fathers can. Oftentimes when she was little, he would sit her on his knee and together they would go over the facts and figures of his very successful business together. She learned a lot on his knee and he was very proud of her strong sensibility and the good head on her shoulders.

Now Mary's mother, on the other hand, was a very frivolous woman. But she too loved her daughter very much. She loved Mary even more than the dinner parties that she adored hosting and attending. On the nights she would drag Mary's father out to such parties, Mary would often sit on the bed as her mother dressed and her mother would ask her advice on her jewelry. Though she almost never selected what Mary suggested, it made Mary feel very important to be asked and every time her mother would kiss her forehead tenderly and comment on how very grown up she was getting. There was usually a tear hiding in the corner of her eye when this happened; she did not like to think of her little girl growing up, but she was also very proud of how pleasant and lovely Mary was becoming. But after a moment she'd wipe the tear away and finish getting ready before dragging Mary's father out of the house to the party which he did not want to attend, but did simply to bask in the glow of his luminescent butterfly wife.

Those nights Mary would be left with a governess, but that wasn't anything very new as she often was. The women never lasted very long—something seemed to unsettle them after a month or two. No one could ever explain what it was—Mary was perfectly pleasant, almost unfailingly obedient, and wonderfully polite, a governess' dream, but there was just something the slightest bit off about the girl. It was nothing she did, but strange things seemed to happen around her. Nothing unpleasant, but off.

Mary's parents blamed the dearth of nannies on their own faulty hiring skills. With wide eyes Mary would agree, trying her best not to snicker at the havoc she could wreak simply with a snap of her fingers.

Peter Pan appeared on one of those nights that Mary was left home. Her parents had tucked her in before leaving, but they were between nannies at the moment and so had left her in the care of the servants. But the servants were busy and Mary a very well-behaved child and so no one thought anything of leaving her to the nursery. And it wasn't necessarily a _bad _decision; after all, Mary's idea of mischief on that night was to sit in the large armchair in the corner and read a large book of fairytales that her mother had given her and her father had scoffed at.

She was reading intently when he entered the window silently. She was so engrossed that didn't notice him come in.

"Girl, what are you doing?"

Mary jumped and looked up. And there was Peter, all dressed in a funny outfit that looked to be made of leaves. He was taller than her imagination had made him when telling stories to her toys. "You startled me!" she chided. "And my name is not Girl, it is Mary Elizabeth Poppins and I'll thank you to use it!"

"Well, _I'm_ Peter Pan."

"Yes, I know," Mary responded because she did. He had been making appearances in her Fairyland stories lately and it seemed only natural that he appear now. Such things made sense to Mary Poppins.

Peter, however, was not accustomed to this sort of easy dismissal. Usually people were more impressed and he didn't like the lack of surprise. "Well, did you know that _this _is Tinker Bell?" he asked, pointing to the glowing ball of light hovering by his shoulder.

Mary gasped when the ball lighted on his shoulder and she could make out the small figure of the fairy. "Oh, she's lovely! Hello!"

The quiet tinkle of bells filled the air and Peter snickered. "That's not nice, Tink!" It was more of an observation than a scolding.

"What did she say?" Mary asked with a frown. She didn't like being uninformed and hated that she couldn't understand.

"That's the fairy language," Peter explained. "And she says you're not very pretty at all!"

"Well, how entirely rude!" Mary exclaimed, sticking her pretty nose in the air and sniffing disdainfully. It was a move she had learned from seeing her mother gossip with her friends. Mary may have been a fairly mischievous child, but she had impeccable manners and was quite annoyed that it did not seem her visitors could say the same. Besides, she was lovely. She knew it because everyone said so!

Peter laughed and Mary hid her hurt feelings by stamping her foot and huffing as she turned away. She did not like feeling like the butt of a joke. And so, as hard as it was to do, she ignored the boy and his fairy, pretending to be utterly disinterested in them.

Peter immediately took notice and, seeing as he did not like to be ignored, reached out and yanked one of Mary's braids. She yelped and turned back to scold him but the words died in her throat when she found him floating easily in the air.

"How are you doing that?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

Peter puffed out his chest. "It's easy! I'm clever that way!"

"Show me," Mary demanded. "Please." She added the word as an afterthought.

He hesitated. "I don't know… you don't seem exactly clever enough…"

Mary's eyes sprang open and her mouth tightened into a thin line. She did not like being told she couldn't do things. "I am too! I could do it if you would show me how!"

Peter didn't respond, just grinned cheekily. Mary was about ready to smack that cheeky grin right off his face. She turned away instead. "I bet you just don't think yourself clever enough to teach me," she sniffed.

You see, Mary Poppins was already incredibly talented at reading people and making them do things. But her true talent lay in the fact that they nearly always thought it was their idea.

Peter glared at her. "I could teach you if I wanted!"

"Then show me!" Mary insisted. "I shan't believe you until you do."

Now it was a matter of pride and Peter was going to do as she asked, come hell or high water.

. . .

"Sound familiar, Ben?"

Mary stops her story to look at her interrupting husband. "I beg your pardon?"

Bert grins up at her. "I'm just saying there might be a reason you and Peter never could get along for more than five minutes, Mary!"

"I'm sure I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about," Mary sniffs.

"Love, you and Peter? You're two sides of the same coin."

"We are not!" Bert gives her a knowing look but says nothing. "Are you going to let me finish telling this story?"

Bert takes her hand and kisses the back of it. "No one's stopping you, love."

Mary turns back to her son. "Now, Ben, as I was saying before your father _so rudely _interrupted me…"


	3. An Awfully Big Adventure

**Thanks for the reviews, guys! I hope you like this next bit too!**

**I own absolutely nothing, as always.**

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Peter Pan hated being challenged and was now determined that Mary Poppins, the girl who had so obnoxiously challenged him to teach her (Peter did not know the word obnoxious, but if he had, he would have thought her obnoxious), would learn. "It's easy!" he exclaims. "Just think of a happy thought."

Mary looked at him, her eyes narrowed. This seemed a bit odd (you see, at twelve years old, young Mary had yet to spend much time in the company of her Uncle Albert and so the idea that simply a happy thought had the power to lift a whole person in the air was almost ludicrous) and yet she really did not have much reason to doubt his authority. After all, he was the one in the air. And so she closed her eyes and thought of Christmas morning.

Much to Peter's surprise, her feet hovered a foot above the ground before she opened her eyes and collapsed to the floor. Peter laughed but he was further surprised when she clambered to her feet, dusting herself off and accusing him of cheating her. Peter was not a cheat—a trickster sometimes, but never a cheat. He called Tink over and she stood on his hand, her own hands on her hips as she sniffed at Mary.

"I just didn't think about the fairy dust," Peter explained. But the damage to Mary's pride was already done and she no longer trusted him implicitly. She was sure he was going to laugh at her, no matter what Peter promised.

Mary was a very cautious child, especially where her pride was concerned. Her father- a very, very wealthy and guarded businessman- had taught her that there were only two appropriate times to gamble: after careful thought and due process or in matters of the heart. She was not about to trust the boy so willingly again.

She looked around, contemplating what could be used for her demands. Her gaze fell on an umbrella that had been in the stand by the door for as long as she could remember. She grabbed the odd old thing and presented it to Peter. "Use this."

Peter rolled his eyes but wiped his now dusty hands on the thing. Mary grabbed hold and thought again. This time she lifted off the floor and stayed there even when her eyes opened.

"I'm doing it!" she exclaimed happily.

"You are, you are! Oh, the cleverness of me!" Peter crowed.

"Of _you_? _I'm _the one doing it!" Mary snapped.

"Yes, but I taught you!"

"_Hardly_! You laughed at me."

Peter was bored of the topic already and he'd just had an idea. He told her as much. "It's a marvelous idea! One of my best!"

"Oh?" Mary raised an eyebrow. (Though she did not yet know it, her look was incredibly reminiscent of the look she would often give her husband after a particularly fanciful one of his ideas.)

Peter grabbed her hand. A boy had never held Mary's hand before. Of course, she didn't know many boys—for nearly all of her mother's friends had no children, or if they did, most were girls. "There's the boys, you see, the boys, they need a mother."

Mary snorted. A mother! She was hardly twelve years old! She didn't even play mother very often to her toys. "I don't know who these boys are, but I certainly do _not _want to be their mother!"

Being a mother sounded like a lot of hard work and Mary preferred reading to parties. Her own mother often sighed when she would find Mary curled up with a book, far, far away from the party she was throwing—she so hoped her daughter would follow in her footsteps and become a dazzling hostess—but could see how happy her daughter was and so would just kiss Mary's forehead and remind her of the time of dinner before rejoining the party.

"But you _want _to come with me, don't you? Don't you want adventures?"

"Oh yes!" Mary cried. She wanted nothing more than to see the island of her stories.

"Then you must be a mother! That's what girls are good for!"

Mary drew herself up to her full four-foot-eleven-inches. "I will do no such thing, Peter Pan, and you can't make me!"

"Then you'll have to stay here and Tink and I will go back to Neverland!"

Mary stamped her foot hard enough that one of the servants downstairs heard (though he did not come to check, chalking it up to the house settling or something). She wanted to go to Neverland but she would not be told what to do! And she most certainly did _not _want to be a mother!

Fortunately for everyone involved, Mary had a good head on her shoulders and was incredibly quick thinking. "I've had an idea," she announced, tilting her chin up. "I shall come with you and I shall take care of the boys but I shan't be a mother."

"But-"

"Peter, don't interrupt. It's quite rude. I can see why you want a mother! But I shall not be her. No, I shall be a governess."

Peter scratched his head and wrinkled his nose. He didn't know what governess was but it sounded like a sneeze and he hoped Mary got over the illness quickly because he was immensely enjoying the conversation and challenge she presented.

Mary noticed that Peter was confused—of course he was, the dear! He hadn't a mother to explain such things to him. "A governess is a person who takes care of children, but she's not a mother herself."

"She takes care of children who aren't hers? Why?"

"Well… well… _because_!" Mary couldn't think of a way to describe a governess properly—not without seemingly insulting her own mother who left her in the care of one.

Peter shook his hand, clearly already bored with the topic. "Well, that's fine, just so long as you tell stories!"

"Oh I know lots of stories!"

"I know, I heard. You talk a lot."

"That's unkind, Peter."

"It's true though! Look, are you in or out?"

Mary gripped her umbrella and took a deep breath. She'd been longing for a grand adventure and now she was faced with one. Of course, that meant accepting all the danger and uncertainty that came with it. She had never thought she might hesitate at this opportunity, but suddenly the night seemed very cold and her nursery very warm and comfortable.

Her grip on the parrot head of the umbrella tightened and she stepped to the window, tilting her chin towards Peter defiantly. "In."

. . .

"Didn't you want to go to Neverland, Momma?" Ben asks, his voice raspy and eyes heavy with sleep. His eyelids droop but he forces them open.

Mary reaches out and strokes his hair. "Of course I did, darling."

"Then how come you didn't go right 'way?"

"It was an awfully big adventure," Mary explains, her voice low as she continues to stroke his hair. Ben snuggles down into the covers. "And, as with every big adventure, it was rather nerve-wracking at the beginning."

"But Daddy was there." Ben's eyes are now completely closed as he gives up any pretence of being fully awake.

"Yes, he was," Mary says, looking back at Bert. He grins at her. "But I didn't quite know that yet. All I knew was that I was going with Peter."

"This is a good story," Ben comments, obviously drifting off. "I like this story."

"Then we'll finish it another night," Mary promises, pressing her lips to his hair. "For now, get some sleep."

Bert copies her and kisses their son goodnight, tucking the covers in snugly around him. When he and Mary are sure he's sleeping, they leave the room, turning off the light and leaving only a nightlight burning brightly in the corner.

Neither notice the silhouette of a young boy slip off the windowsill and fly into the night.


	4. Neverland

**Enjoy!**

**I own absolutely nothing**

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"Mummy! Mummy, Mummy!" Ben hollers as Mary walks in the door, running to accost her legs with a hug. Mary bends and picks the little boy up—he's getting big enough that this is getting harder and rarer.

"Hello!" she laughs, kissing his cheek.

"Did you know you were gone _all day_?" he wants to know, sounding amazed, not chastising.

"I _was? _Goodness, how time flies!"

"Mummy, you and Daddy promised to tell me the rest of the story!"

"What story?"

"_Mummy_," Ben says in an exasperated tone of voice. "You _know _what story!"

"Oh, you mean the one about the princess and the dinosaur."

"_Mummy_!"

She laughs. "Once you've eaten dinner and gotten ready to sleep, your father and I will continue the story, all right?"

"All right!" he exclaims. "I'm going to go put on my jamas _right now_!"

With a chuckle, Mary goes into the kitchen to find her husband hard at work at cooking. "It smells delicious," she comments as she crosses the room and wraps her arms around him from behind. His smile threatens to break out of his face as he turns in her arms, it's that wide and bright. One of Mary's favorite things about him is how incredibly happy he always is to see her, as if, even after eight years of marriage and one son, he still can't quite wrap his head around the fact that she's his wife.

"Thought you probably wouldn't want to come 'ome and 'ave to cook dinner, so I thought I'd do it."

She tugs at the fabric hanging off his hips. "Using my good apron, I see. It's a nice touch."

"I also thought you'd want to come 'ome to a messy 'usband!"

"Very thoughtful," she compliments him as she tilts her face up. He takes the hint and kisses her.

"That's gross!" At the exclamation, they both turn to find Ben standing in his flannel pajamas, glaring at them. "Kissing is icky."

"You're already in your pajamas, bud!" Bert says, his eyes widening in shock. Usually it was a fight to get Ben into his pajamas.

"Mummy said if I put on my jamas you guys would tell me the rest of the story!"

"I believe there was more to that statement," Mary reminds her son.

"Oh, yeah! I have to eat dinner and get all ready to sleep first! I forgot."

"That's all right," she says with a smile.

"What story are we talking about?" Bert asks as he begins plating food. "I 'ope it's the one about the princess and the dinosaur. I like that one!"

"_Daddy_!" Ben yells exasperatedly. "About _Peter Pan_, silly!"

Bert turns to Mary. "Did your son just call me silly?"

"Oh, so he's _my_ son now, is he?"

He grins and kisses her cheek. "Well, 's what _you _call me all the time! I figure you've got to be related somehow!"

Rolling her eyes, Mary chastises him, " Oh, don't be sil- ridiculous!"

Bert just laughs and motions for them both to join him at the table for dinner.

Getting Ben to bed has never been easier and Mary thinks that they really need to find more stories like this one to use.

"So where were we?" Mary asks, taking up her post on the arm of the overstuffed chair. Bert sits in the chair and pulls her hand to his lips to kiss it. She can't help but smile.

"You were flying with Peter Pan!"

"Oh, of course! We were flying and it seemed to take forever and a day. And Peter just kept saying that we were almost there, just a little longer. Except it never seemed to be quite true!"

"Peter was like that," Bert chuckles, his eyes sort of misting over. Mary squeezes his hand, knowing that he's started to miss the boy who was once his best friend.

"Daddy, _what _was Peter Pan like?"

"Well, 'e was… tricky! Not mean, mind you. Just tricky. 'e was a real clever kid, but 'e was the most impulsive person you'd ever know. That's 'ow we ended up with your mum 'ere!"

"Who ended up with you and Mummy?"

"Why me and the Lost Boys, of course! 'cept they weren't called the Lost Boys yet. Back then, it was just us boys..."

Most boys came to Neverland when they fell out of their prams. But not Herbert Alfred. He was the only boy to come to Neverland bearing not only his full name, but a full set of memories with it. You see, this was before the time of the Lost Boys—before the rules had been set up. It was a time when even Captain Hook had both hands.

Herbert Alfred hadn't fallen out of his pram, nor had he been stolen away. He hadn't meant to come to Neverland, but he _had _meant to leave his home. He was eleven years of age and knew very well that as the second youngest of seven boys (his brother Liam had only been born five years before and he was the baby of the family), he was _not _being treated fairly. And so he'd packed up a sack and headed out to seek his fortune like the adventurers in the books his brothers were always reading.

But he hadn't found his fortune. He found Neverland and with it, Peter Pan.

Peter had been surprised to find him wandering through the brush, but had asked surprisingly few questions. Bert thought he might have been lonely, though of course he'd never admit it. In any case, Peter welcomed him with open arms and allowed him to string up a hammock.

And soon other boys began showing up—young boys who _had _fallen out of their prams. Bert sort of just automatically fell in as Peter's right hand man, taking care of all the stuff Peter didn't care to do, things like making sure there was food and places for boys to sleep, especially when Peter would disappear for stretches at a time to adventure.

When Bert was thirteen—Peter was the only one who didn't age, and in any case, Bert always knew how old he was—Peter returned but this time, he brought company. An odd little girl carrying a ratty old umbrella followed the boy and Tink. She was pretty, but Bert could tell from her stiff posture and upturned nose that he wasn't going to like her much at all.

All the boys crowded around the newest addition to Neverland—it was the first time many of them had been this close to a real live human girl since falling out of their prams or wandering away from their nannies.

"This is-"

"I can speak for myself!" the girl insisted as she interrupted Peter. As annoyed as Bert might have been by her demeanor, he was impressed. Peter didn't like being interrupted at all. "My name is Mary Poppins and I've come to be your nanny."

"What's a nanny?" Bunny asked. Bunny was the youngest boy thus far, maybe six or seven, and Peter had given him the name because he'd arrived with a stuffed rabbit.

"Like a mother," Peter said, "but not. She's going to take care of us!" He looked very proud of himself.

Bert was shocked. He thought he'd been doing a pretty decent job of that by himself! He didn't need some snot-nosed girl who was _younger _than him telling him what to do!

"Now why don't you all introduce yourselves so I can get to know you?" Mary Poppins suggested.

Bunny started off; he was clearly already enamored with the girl and had decided that he should hold her hand. Bert hung back, trying not to glare. But finally his turn came. "I'm Bert. Bert Alfred."

Mary looked confused. "You have a real name."

"Yes and I've been 'ere for nigh on three years so..."

"So you don't need my help. I understand. Perhaps you could help me. I don't know my way around at all."

Bert blinked in surprise. All the girls he remembered from back in London were never so cooperative. She smiled at him and Bert found that no matter how hard he pulled the corners of his mouth down, he _wanted _to smile back.

"You didn't like Mummy?" Ben asks in amazement. "How come?"

"She was different! I didn't know 'er yet!" Bert answers.

"Your father was a very stubborn boy," Mary adds, sending a cheeky grin at her husband.

"And your mother was a very snotty girl," Bert retorts, tugging his arm and pulling her to sit in his lap. Mary wraps her arms around his neck and shakes her head fondly.

"But you love each other now!" Ben says.

"Very much," Mary confirms. Bert kisses her cheek and nods his agreement.

"More story!" their son demands. "Please?"

"Well, all right," Bert agrees. "Your mum and I, we ended up 'aving to work together, and let me tell you, she was a bit of an 'andful at first…"


End file.
